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ng crossed through to the other side of the rain。 the merchandise in the booths was falling apart; the cloths spread over the doors were splotched with mold; the counters undermined by termites; the walls eaten away by dampness; but the Arabs of the third generation were sitting in the same place and in the same position as their fathers and grandfathers; taciturn; dauntless; invulnerable to time and disaster; as alive or as dead as they had been after the insomnia plague and Colonel Aureliano Buendía’s thirtytwo wars。 Their strength of spirit in the face of ruins of the gaming tables; the fritter stands; the shooting galleries; and the alley where they interpreted dreams and predicted the future made Aureliano Segundo ask them with his usual informality what mysterious resources they had relied upon so as not to have gone awash in the storm; what the devil they had done so as not to drown; and one after the other; from door to door; they returned a crafty smile and a dreamy look; and without any previous consultation they all gave the answer:
“Swimming。?
Petra Cotes was perhaps the only native who had an Arab heart。 She had seen the final destruction of her stables; her barns dragged off by the storm。 but she had managed to keep her house standing。 During the second year she had sent pressing messages to Aureliano Segundo and he had answered that he did not know when he would go back to her house; but that in any case he would bring along a box of gold coins to pave the bedroom floor with。 At that time she had dug deep into her heart; searching for the strength that would allow her to survive the misfortune; and she had discovered a reflective and just rage with which she had sworn to restore the fortune squandered by her lover and then wiped out by the deluge。 It was such an unbreakable decision that Aureliano Segundo went back to her house eight months after the last message and found her green disheveled; with sunken eyelids and skin spangled with mange; but she was writing out numbers on small pieces of paper to make a raffle。 Aureliano Segundo was astonished; and he was so dirty and so solemn that Petra Cotes almost believed that the one who had e to see her was not the lover of all her life but his twin brother。
“You’re crazy;?he told her。 “Unless you plan to raffle off bones。?
Then she told him to look in the bedroom and Aureliano Segundo saw the mule。 Its skin was clinging to its bones like that of its mistress; but it was just as alive and resolute as she。 Petra Cotes had fed it with her wrath; and when there was no more hay or corn or roots; she had given it shelter in her own bedroom and fed it on the percale sheets; the Persian rugs; the plush bedspreads; the velvet drapes; and the canopy embroidered with gold thread and silk tassels on the episcopal bed。
Chapter 17
?RSULA HAD to make a great effort to fulfill her promise to die when it cleared。 The waves of lucidity that were so scarce during the rains became more frequent after August; when an and wind began to blow and suffocated the rose bushes and petrified the piles of mud; and ended up scattering over Macondo the burning dust that covered the rusted zinc roofs and the ageold almond trees forever。 ?rsula cried in lamentation when she discovered that for more than three years she had been a plaything for the children。 She washed her painted face; took off the strips of brightly colored cloth; the dried lizards and frogs; and the rosaries and old Arab necklaces that they had hung all over her body; and for the first time since the death of Amaranta she got up out of bed without anybody’s help to join in the family life once more。 The spirit of her invincible heart guided her through the shadows。 Those who noticed her stumbling and who bumped into the archangelic arm she kept raised at head level thought that she was having trouble with her body; but they still did not think she was blind。 She did not need to see to realize that the flower beds; cultivated with such care since the first rebuilding; had been destroyed by the rain and ruined by Aureliano Segundo’s excavations; and that the walls and the cement of the floors were cracked; the furniture mushy and discolored; the doors off their hinges; and the family menaced by a spirit of resignation and despair that was inconceivable in her time。 Feeling her way along through the empty bedrooms she perceived the continuous rumble of the termites as they carved the wood; the snipping of the moths in the clothes closets; and the devastating noise of the enormous red ants that had prospered during the deluge and were undermining the foundations of the house。 One day she opened the trunk with the saints and had to ask Santa Sofía de la Piedad to get off her body the cockroaches that jumped out and that had already turned the clothing to dust。 “A person can’t live in neglect like this;?she said。 “If we go on like this we’ll be devoured by animals。?From then on she did not have a moment of repose。 Up before dawn; she would use anybody available; even the children。 She put the few articles of clothing that were still usable out into the sun; she drove the cockroaches off with powerful insecticide attacks; she scratched out the veins that the termites had made on doors and windows and asphyxiated the ants in their anthills with quicklime。 The fever of restoration finally brought her to the fotten rooms。 She cleared out the rubble and cobwebs in the room where Jos?Arcadio Buendía had lost his wits looking for the Philosopher’s stone; she put the silver shop which had been upset by the soldiers in order; and lastly she asked for the keys to Melquíades?room to see what state it was in。 Faithful to the wishes of Jos?Arcadio Segundo; who had forbidden anyone to e in unless there was a clear indication that he had died; Santa Sofía de la Piedad tried all kinds of subterfuges to throw ?rsula off the track。 But so inflexible was her determination not to surrender even the most remote corner of the house to the insects that she knocked down every obstacle in her path; and after three days of insistence she succeeded in getting them to open the door for her。 She had to hold on to the doorjamb so that the stench would not knock her over; but she needed only two seconds to remember that the schoolgirls?seventytwo chamberpots were in there and that on one of the rainy nights a patrol of soldiers had searched the house looking for Jos?Arcadio Segundo and had been unable to find him。
“Lord save us!?she exclaimed; as if she could see everything。 “So much trouble teaching you good manners and you end up living like a pig。?
Jos?Arcadio Segundo was still reading over the parchments。 The only thing visible in the intricate tangle of hair was the teeth striped with green dime and his motionless eyes。 When he recognized his greatgrandmother’s voice he turned his head toward the door; tried to smile; and without knowing it repeated an old phrase of ?rsula’s。
“What did you expect??he murmured。 “Time passes。?
“That’s how it goes;??rsula said; “but not so much。?
When she said it she realized that she was giving the same reply that Colonel Aureliano Buendía had given in his death cell; and once again she shuddered with the evidence that time was not passing; as she had just admitted; but that it was turning in a circle。 But even then she did not give resignation a chance。 She scolded Jos?Arcadio Segundo as if he were a child and insisted that he take a bath and shave and lend a hand in fixing up the house。 The simple idea of abandoning the room that had given him peace terrified Jos?Arcadio Segundo。 He shouted that there was no human power capable of making him go out because he did not want to see the train with two hundred cars loaded with dead people which left Macondo every day at dusk on its way to the sea。 “They were all of those who were at the station;?he shouted。 “Three thousand four hundred eight。?Only then did ?rsula realize that he was in a world of shadows more impenetrable than hers; as unreachable and solitary as that of his greatgrandfather。 She left him in the room; but she succeeded in getting them to leave the padlock off; clean it every day; throw the chamberpots awa